“But I won’t get to see you as much.” I didn’t understand why he wanted me to stay when it would’ve been easier for me to go with him.
“Honestly, you wouldn’t see me much more if you were in the city,” he replied. “I have all these things I have to do, and it’s not like you can come with me for them.”
“Because I’m a felon?”
“Because you’re a man,” he whispered. “And no one knows… about me, or… they wouldn’t…”
Accept it.Knowing everything I did about his life, I wasn’t surprised by that fact. That didn’t mean I had to like it, though. In fact, I fucking hated it.
“So, what am I then?” I asked, my voice a little gruffer than I meant it to be. “You’re dirty little secret that you get to hide away in another town? Pretend like I don’t exist? What am I looking at here?”
“No!” Harley exclaimed. “No. I don’t… I don’t know, okay? I haven’t had time to think about it. I haven’t had time to figure it out. I just…”
His palm pressed to his chest as he turned away from me. I remained in place, listening to how he tried to steady his breathing. I wavered between rushing to help him and wanting to push the matter. It felt so much bigger than dealing with a bunch of homophobic assholes.
Granted, I was used to that kind of commentary. Aidan had thrown it my direction every chance he got. Maybe Harley wasn’t. Maybe the idea of dealing with it was too much right now with everything else going on.Could I really hold that against him?
“Okay,” I relented. “Okay, we’ll table the conversation for a while. I’ll stay here in Wilde Bay. I should at least finish my house, right?”
“Yeah.” His voice was barely audible. “I’ll figure something out, Mav. I will. I don’t know what, but I will.”
Something uncomfortable wove its way through my chest—something slow and insidious. Something tainted by Aidan’s words in the back of my head. I wanted to demand clarity and a plan. Something solid I could hold on to that was justI’ll figure it out.
But I knew better than to push him, so I swallowed the doubt and uncertainty. I ate the questions that kept trying to crawl their way out of my throat.
Harley still hadn’t turned around. His shoulders were tight, and his back was rigid.
“Hey,” I said, my voice softer.
He didn’t move or respond. Sliding off the chair, I crossed the space between us and wrapped my arms around his waist. I pressed my forehead to the back of his head and breathed him in deep, letting the spice of his cologne fill my lungs. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
“I’m not asking you to have it all figured out tonight,” I told him.That was partly true.I knew it was an unreasonable ask, but I wanted some kind of reassurance, too. “Just promise me that we’ll figure it out?”
“I promise,” Harley whispered.
“Okay,” I replied. I kissed the back of his neck lightly. “I’ll be here whenever you come back. I’m not going anywhere, princess.”
I tried to sound sure of the decision.And maybe if I said it a few dozen times to myself, then I would be.I wanted to believe this was a hurdle we could overcome, but I’d seen what fear did to people.
Love didn’t stop someone from choosing fear. It didn’t override it or drown it out. Fear had the potential to be loud and violent, demanding and vicious. Love asked you to be brave, but fear demanded you to be safe. Love didn’t magically make someone ready for something.
With his anxiety, I knew Harley needed safety. He craved the moments where he could breathe easier and function without chaos. I just wasn’t sure how I fit into that.
CHAPTER 68
harley
I’d done a lot of stupid things in my life, but giving Maverick a shred of hope for a future was the worst thing I could do.What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t, and that was the problem.
Hearing him say he wanted to plan a future with me had melted straight through my defenses. I hadn’t seen the traps or consequences. I’d seen us and all the potential of what we could have been. It made me weak in the knees—not in the world-falling-apart kind of way but more in the swoon-worthy kind of way. It was silly, but it mattered. It was special. It wasn’t full of obligation or expectation. I didn’t know what to do with that other than cling to it.
Weeks of domestic life with him had built something unexpected. A want. A need. An insane belief that there was some way to make this work. The quiet ease of existing beside him without performance had begun to feel dangerously normal.
I wanted to believe I could make this work. And maybe I could find a way. I didn’t have a clue how, but maybe I could.
Maybe I could make going back and forth work.
